


An Inconvenient Contract

by Achrya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, BDSM, Body Horror, Courtship, Depression, Dom/sub, Dual Sex Omegas, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gender Confusion, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Intersex Omegas, Kink Exploration, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Verse, Omegaverse puberty, Sexual Confusion, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-04-19 16:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19136776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Achrya
Summary: Snape is a man who has done many things he isn’t proud of, and very few he is, but there are lines even he would never cross. This is, perhaps, why Dumbledore trusts him to start a sham courtship with, protect, and care for Potter when the boy proves to be an omega, in spite of Snape’s own alpha status.After all it would take more than a heat, spent isolated in a small cottage on an idyllic countryside out of the country, to make Snape attracted to Potter, and vice versa. More than a fake courtship to avoid the contract an enterprising Potter ancestor entered into, promising the next Potter Omega to a potentially Dark family to draw them together. More than being expected to explain what being an omega means, to teach and mold the boy's perception of this part of his life, to give life to the alpha instincts Snape rarely acknowledges.Right?





	1. Blame

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, the plot is all just about giving myself an excuse for kink laded a/b/o porn. 
> 
> Steadfastly ignores *everything* after the fifth book, and probably parts of that too. It be like that.

It started to go wrong when Dumbledore decided to invoke an old promise Severus had long left behind, the hurt of things lost and betrayal buried the same as so many other things in his past were. 

Or, perhaps, it started when that damnable Dynamic Detector turned the absolute wrong color when Severus dropped a few of Potter’s hairs into its murky mudcolored depts, or when he made a promise to a scared Muggle-born girl not knowing what awaited them in the future. Maybe, even, when some greedy member of the Potter bloodline had signed a contract to gain power, no doubt thinking they’d pulled one over on the contract holder, promised the impossible. But no, that puts too much power over him in the hands of that family and Severus would do no such thing. 

Better to say it had begun with Lily. That was what was most fitting, in the end. 

When Severus looked back on the events that steered his life, that things that truly defined him and determined the paths he would take, they all lead back to Lily Potter, nee Evans. Over and over when he traced things back they began with her, were shaped by her presence, changed in the wake of her presence. Everything before meeting her felt like, when he looked back on it, it was little more than a holding pattern until the day they stumbled across each other, and everything after was...more than it had been before. 

Meeting, their friendship, the dissolution of that friendship, Lily’s marriage to James Potter, having a child, Lily’s death: he was who he was because of those things, those bittersweet moments in time. 

And so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that years after she was gone, her son would be there at every turn, worming into every facet of his life, causing destruction as easily as he breathed. For all Dumbledore’s planning and plotting Severus very much expected Potter would, one day, simply trip into the Dark Lord and kill him somehow, without even meaning to, and once against he hailed as a hero and conqueror of the Dark in spite of doing absolutely nothing at all. 

He’d understood, when he’d made protecting Potter his final promise to the memory of Lily, that he might have to associate with the boy but he’d never imagined how wrapped up in Potter his life would become because of it. He’d never imagined it would lead to Potter invading so thoroughly into his personal life, until there was no refuge left for him. 

But he should have, if not on his own then when Dumbledore sent an owl to Spinner’s End requesting a freshly brewed Dynamic Detector. It was a strange request no matter how Severus looked at it; the potion could be easily obtained with a simple request to the Department of Mating and Dynamic Concerns or easily brewed by any half decent Potions Master, though all brewings were to be registered along with their results. That part was near impossible to get around since two of the major ingredients was concentrated alpha venom, something hard to obtain in the needed amounts due to how small the alpha population was and even harder to handle, distill, and store properly, and omega milk, again hard to obtain for the same reasons and even more complicated a process to store since it’s potency was lost fairly quickly unless treated just so.   

Snape had both in his personal supply, though how Dumbledore was aware of that was something he didn’t want to put too much thought into.

The only reason to not go through official channels and deal with the Ministry, who had a supply of what was needed, was to keep the findings a secret and, for all that secrets were very much part of Severus’ life he couldn’t fathom why Dumbledore would want to do such a thing. There was no reason to hide a person’s dynamic, everyone’s was registered by the time they were Hogwarts age, but usually far before, via the Dynamic Detector. 

So who did Dumbledore was to use it for and why did he want to keep it from the Ministry. 

In hindsight the answer should have been obvious, like so many things should have been. 

“I’m checking Harry’s dynamic.” Dumbledore informed him a week after Severus received the owl when they met in the Headmaster’s office and Severus had set everything up. There wasn’t much to it, most of the work done save for the adding of something from the person in question which Dumbledore seemed to have well in hand if the small sleeve of paper he was ripping over the mixture was anything to go by. 

Severus was tempted, so so tempted, to halt the older wizard, or cover his potion from contamination until he had more answers. He restrained himself, settling for staring silently as Dumbledore shook a few inky black strands of hair into the bowl of Detector on his desk. 

Potter? Potter was nearly sixteen, far past the age of checking on such things and mere months from presenting, assuming he was anything but a Beta, which was very unlikely. He was a half-blood and, as Severus knew all too well, half-blood’s almost always took after their wizard parent. James Potter had been a beta so his son was nearly guaranteed to be the same, no matter Lily’s status. 

But, more to the point, why would Dumbledore need to check? Surely the boy’s parents had registered him...well, no, perhaps they hadn’t. They hadn’t been in much of a position to do the usual things that followed the birth of a child; no announcement in the paper, no large gathering for his naming or the lone birthday spent with his parents, and surely to status registration through official channels, something that would have exposed them. 

Not that all of their secrecy had mattered in the end. 

Still, to think that so much time could have gone by, Potter had been openly part of the magical world for over five years now, had been followed by many, had many many articles written about him in the paper, no doubt had many an adoring fan hoping to catch his eye and sending Merlin only knew what in the interest of courting, but none knew of his dynamic? How had such a thing managed to escape notice of not just the simpering, nosy public but of the Ministry as well? Why had no one ever asked after it, or looked into it? Why hadn’t Dumbledore done this before now? How could someone like Harry Potter fall through the cracks? 

“Officially Harry is registered as a beta.” Dumbledore said, as if aware of Severus’ thoughts, and perhaps he was. Even after years of association Severus couldn’t begin to read or understand the Headmaster, and had long since given up. “A friend in the Ministry was kind enough to tuck away the paperwork the appropriate files some years back for me, in hopes it would...dissuade anyone from looking for Harry for the purpose of finding out his status.” 

“You forged official Ministry documents for Potter.” Severus stated blandly, not able to dredge up even a hint of surprise at the revelation. It was very typical of the Headmaster to bend, and outright break, the rules to make things easier for his Golden Boy. It was no different than the way James had been treated when they were in school but, perhaps, a touch less blatant. 

Perhaps. 

The potion began to bubble as soon as the hairs met the surface, despite no heat being applied, and swiftly took on the appearance of simmering. The hairs well sucked into the swampy mixture, covered by the mixture when the bubbles grew past a simmer to rolling boil. The color began to clarify, as was normal. Not that there’d even been a chance of it not working as intended; it had been brewed by him after all. First it would become perfectly clear and then, if Potter was a beta, it would remain that way. If he was an alpha it would become a pale gold and if he was an omega it would turn silver. It wasn’t a long process and, knowing how it was going to turn out Severus found himself rather disinterested. 

“To keep Harry safe, yes.” Dumbledore said absently, entire focus on the bubbling potion. Giving his usual platitudes about keeping Potter safe, and why that was worth flagrant disregard of policy in all areas, was such a well tread topic it wasn’t even worth wasting the time it would take to look up. Severus sneered nonetheless. “There is a small matter that has come up, you see, and while I doubt there will be any problems it’s something that should be...handled delicately.” 

That didn’t bode well at all. “Oh?” 

“You’re familiar with the Rosiers?” 

Familiar enough to have had a few pass through his potions class, and to have known a few by sight at the height of the Dark Lord’s power. They were an old family, with a tendency towards the Dark, and had intermarried with the Blacks and LeStranges more than a few times over the generations. Severus nodded. 

“After Sirius’ death everything he’d inherited from his family, as the last living Black, passed into Harry’s name, as I’m sure you know, which makes him the sole heir of both the Black and Potter considerable fortunes. In the wake of that Fabia Rosier began to speak to any who would listen about an old contract between a Rosier ancestor and one of the Potters, some generations back.” Severus hummed, already terribly bored of the conversation. “The contract was in exchange for land and stake in some investments that made the Potters quite wealthy, in exchange for agreeing to a mating between the next Potter omega to be born.”

Severus snorted. “There have never been any omegas in the Potter line. An underhanded deal, signed by a fool.” 

Potters were betas who married betas, and occasionally alphas but very very rarely. It was all in the interest of keeping their bloodline free of the...afflictions, omegas and alphas suffered, which was understandable. Severus often wished the Prince family had been so inclined, but that was a different matter altogether. If this Rosier ancestor had been stupid enough to agree to terms involving a marriage to a Potter omega then, as shameful as it was to knowingly make the impossible a condition, they deserved to never collect.  

“It seems she’s hoping to use this contract to...tie her youngest son, Felix, to Harry, and is pointing to Lily’s status, and the rare instance of the potion mislabeling a young child, as a reason for an official Detection, before the Minister of the Dynamic Office, and they’ve agreed to stage it the day before Harry’s next birthday.” The old man looked up, tired eyes twinkling. “And without my presence, though why she’d be opposed to that I don’t know.” 

“I can’t possibly imagine.” Severus drawled. Dumbledore had the nerve to smile faintly. “You’re running your own test to get results first, just in case?” 

Unnecessary, no doubt, but he could see where it would be prudent. 

There were very few omegas these days, the amount declining with every generation. Some pointed at Muggle-borns intermarrying as the reason, as they were overwhelmingly beta, and others pointed to omegas not producing enough of their own as the tendency towards large families was falling out of fashion. There were a mere five among the entire current student population if Severus had his numbers right (and, as the primary supplier of scent and cycle suppressors he most certainly did), and the number hadn’t been much higher when Severus was in school. 

The most notable among them had been Lily. It was such a rarity for a Muggle-born witch to be an omega that she’d been written about in every paper in Wizarding England, and more than a few outside, and been swarmed with courtship letters within the week of her status getting out. 

She’d been twelve, exposed by Slughorn who liked to have the second years group up and make Detectors for the fun of it (and to see who had the skill for the task, as if he wasn’t potentially wasting limited resources in the process). Severus could see, objectively, why Slughorn hadn’t imagined there’d be a problem, everyone except the Muggle-born students were registered and with those who weren’t likely to be betas there wouldn’t be any harm. 

Severus had happily done away with the practice when he took over, the memory of Lily’s confused tears when everyone had gaped at her and the whispers had started. She hadn’t even known about dynamics, it wasn’t something talked about in polite company and it wasn’t as if anyone had ever had a reason to bring it up with her. She’d gone from ignorant to being  _ hunted _ nearly overnight. 

He could close his eyes and remember, perfectly, sitting at her side by the lake and promising that he’d protect her because alphas were meant to protect omegas and he was an alpha (like his mother, much to his father’s disgust. Freaks, he liked to call them when deep in his cup, perversions, and he a poor innocent man with a wife who was more ‘man’ than woman and a son just as bad.) He would be  _ her _ alpha and keep away all of the ones who would come after her, so she would never have to worry. He’d sworn it on his wand, foolishly thinking this meant they’d be friends forever because they were a matching set, and that she’d be  _ his _ . 

And then she’d gone off and taken up with a beta, with Potter of all the betas out there. Something had raged under his skin for years after, seethed at the loss of what belonged to him to an unworthy, scentless oaf, at the betrayal, the rejection of everything he was and could be to her and-

“Will Wizengot honor the contract, if Potter is an omega? He hasn’t presented yet.” 

“I believe they will. It’s far from the first marriage contract, and not even the oldest to be upheld.” Dumbledore sighed. “And many an unpresented child has been promised to another. I’m sure Madam Rosier finds the proximity to his sixteenth birthday to be a plus.” 

All wizards presented, officially, the night of their sixteenth birthday. It was when they came into their full magical potential, and when their bodies presented secondary dynamic traits for the first time. It betas it just meant a slight fever, perhaps some fatigue the next morning, and then life continued as normal. In alphas the change brought on the first rut, and would mark the points to expect the twice yearly events, an emergence of all the instincts and senses that came with that status, and the first swelling of the knot (a wholly uncomfortable and slightly mortifying affair) In omegas there was the first heat, and the sometimes week long fevers that came with it, enhanced arousal, emergence of enhanced senses, and male omegas would experience the first opening of the vaginal canal, which he understood was a painful and slow process without an alpha to attend to it.   

It was a tradition, where arranged marriages were involved, for an omega or alpha’s birthday to be spent in the company of their betrothed, to help with the transition and begin the bonding process. It was said to make bonds stronger, to tie the magic they would share right down to the couple’s cores, if they started that way. It made sense for Madam Rosier to be interested in pursuing the matter now, on the cusp of that event, though Potter’s ‘happy windfall’ might have been the catalyst. 

The potion was, for one brief second, perfectly clear and calm, the boiling ceasing and leaving only a smooth, crystalline surface. Severus could see straight to the bottom of the glass bowl, see the strands of hair suspended in it and then it rippled outwards from the center, as if someone had dropped a stone inside and

Turned silver, becoming a pool of liquid mercury. Three black hairs broke the surface then rested there, floating. 

Severus blinked. Dumbledore sat back in his seat heavily, mouth twisting into a grimace. “Well.” 

“...Felix Rosier isn’t a Death Eater.” Severus offered, too stunned to think of anything else. “I believe he works with dragons.” 

Severus did, perhaps, make a point of keeping an ear and eye out for the progress of all the Slytherins who had passed through the house while he was head. 

Dumbledore’s decidedly blank expression told Severus he didn’t approve. Expected, Felix might not have been a Dark Lord supporter but his father and brother both had been proud Death Eaters. The brother, Evan, had been the one to take Moody’s nose, which was no small thing. Not to Moody anyway. 

Mating Potter to someone with such a close connection to the Dark Lord, and potentially putting all the resources the Black and Potter name allowed, was not something Dumbledore was likely to abide. 

“You have a plan for this outcome.” It wasn’t a question, Severus knew the older wizard would already be a few steps ahead of this, prepared for the impossible 

Dumbledore frowned. “I do, and I can guarantee you aren’t going to care for it Severus, but I want you to remember that it’s for Harry’s well being, and that I would not ask such a thing of you if it could be avoided.” 

Ice spread in Severus’ stomach, cracked and crashed as the chill swept over his body. “What more would you ask of me?” 

“You once swore on your wand to act as the alpha for Lily Evans, did you not?” Severus didn’t dignify the question with a response or attempt to work up any emotion about Dumbledore being aware of an idle promise made by a foolish twelve year old. “She choose otherwise but a contract of sorts was formed and accepted, with Hogwarts itself as a witness. It isn’t unreasonable to apply that contract to the next omega in the Evans line since it was Lily, not you, who broke the agreement.” 

Severus was certain, in that moment, that Dumbledore didn’t know the meaning of the word reasonable. 

“It would be a direct competitor to the contract forged by the Potter line, so the choice would rest with Harry, who I’m sure will agree to a courtship of convenience-” Another word the Headmaster didn’t seem to understand. “When the matter is explained to him.” 

“No.” 

Dumbledore’s bushy eyebrows rose. “No?”  

Severus turned his head slightly to glare at a point above the Headmaster’s shoulder. “I won’t mate with Potter, for the sake of convenience or otherwise. I will not-” Give away the only thing he had left for himself, the only thing he could choose on his own and wasn’t yet tainted. It wasn’t even a matter of finding a mate, he had no prospects, no desire to find one, and had left any warm feelings towards the idea of mating or marriage buried deep under memories of his parents, but of not being forced to do so. It was about having something Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, and Potter hadn’t yet clawed their way into. “Do this. Find someone else.” 

Dumbledore’s expression was sad, disappointed, and Severus felt sick to his stomach. 

“There is no one else. The contract between the Potters and Rosier’s won’t permit Harry to mate with someone without an equal claim. If there were someone else-” 

“You wouldn’t ask.” Severus snapped, all too familiar with that hollow phrase and the meaningless apology dripping from the words. “I know.” 

“If not you then we allow Harry to be handed over to the Rosier family. It may he as good as delivering him to the Death Eaters and their master; I doubt Madam Roiser has any good intentions towards the boy.” 

And that was his problem, as all things concerning Potter’s mortality and health were his problem. Dumbledore didn’t say anymore, just sipped his tea and watched Severus with the eyes of a man who knew he would get his way. Severus could no more sit aside while Harry was legally put into the hands of a Dark Lord loyal family then he could forgive himself his many mistakes. He would agree, Dumbledore had begun this meeting knowing that if it was needed he had the perfect counter and that Severus would go along with whatever his plan entailed. That was Severus’ penance. 

“It’s not as if you’ll really have to mate with Harry.” Dumbledore said mildly. “Just an accepted and acknowledged courtship, to make him unavailable until Felix finds a mate of his own or a way to dissolve the original contract is found. With luck this might be sorted before the school year begins, and it might even garner you a little favor with Voldemort if he thinks you’re trying to lure Potter with a courtship under my orders.”   

One could only hope. But, Severus reasoned even as he glowered at the Headmaster, the situation couldn't get any worse.

“...there is the small matter of his impending presentation, and heat, and how to keep him protected and comfortable during it, but the courtship will allow him to pass into your custody for the duration.” Dumbledore smiled brightly. “I have every confidence there will be nowhere safer than in your care until his cycle passes.” 

“...excuse me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: As it turns out Harry has absolutely no ideas what alphas or omegas or courtships and mating are. A slight oversight on Dumbledore's part, perhaps, and it falls on Severus to correct it, per usual.


	2. Disarray

4 Privet Drive was, Severus decided, both what he expected of a woman like Petunia Evans and very much not where he’d envisioned Potter growing up all at once. It was nice, entirely serviceable and well kept, by Muggle standards, with it’s bland exterior, perfectly manicured lawn, just the right number of flowers and sculpted hedges, a singular stone birdbath, pink curtains in the window, and a door and shutters painted a very plain and inoffensive beige. It was of a size and location that spoke of being perfectly middle class, unremarkable, and normal. 

‘Tuney’ no doubt found it suited her nicely, with as obsessed with appearances and not seeming odd as she’d always been. Not that Severus and she had been close even before he and Lily had...grown apart, but he’d seen enough of her, and heard enough from her long suffering sister, to have a very distinct idea of who Petunia Evans was, and the sort of woman she’d grow up to be. 

All that said it was hard to imagine Potter living here. It was mundane, lacking personality, and didn’t seem befitting of the Savior of the Magical World at all. He’d always pictured Potter somewhere more ostentatious, more in line with the spoiled and foolhardy boy he’d been teaching. Still he supposed one didn’t need a large, eyesore of a home to be pampered and there was little doubt in his mind that Petunia would have done so for the only child of her departed sister. She and Lily had had their issues, yes, but death tended to blind one to the past ills of others and Lily had always seemed to love her sister. He assumed the feeling was, at heart, mutual. Mutual enough for Petunia to raise a boy who knew nothing of listening to others, obeying rules, or stopping to consider consequences, at the very least. 

Potter had been the picture of foolhardy, stupid, thoughtless recklessness since his very first year and he had, in Severus opinion as someone who spent far more of his time than he’d liked watching after the boy, only become worse with age. It didn’t seem to matter to the boy at all that one of the most powerful wizards in centuries was after him, or that rules existed to protect him and his equally idoitic friends, or that dozens of people were risking everything for him. He rushed headlong into danger after danger with nary a care in the world, demanding answers to questions he didn’t fully comprehend even as he failed at the duties he was assigned. Potter was emotional and illogical and as disgustingly shortsighted as he was powerful. 

That he would turn out to be an omega on top of all of that was going to cause an endless amount of problems, of that Severus had little doubt. Omegas had more raw magical potential that betas and alphas, among other traits, and in the months leading up to and following presenting it was not at all unusual for emotional outbursts to bloom into fully explosive displays of power. 

To say that Severus was not looking forward to seeing how things went with Potter was a vast understatement. He hadn’t dreaded someone’s coming of age like this in all his years of teaching and he’d been witness to a fair number of utter disaster and blow ups, and heard of quite a few others. 

Draco Malfoy came to mind but Severus did his best to push that thought away and think nothing of the queasy feeling that tried to come over him. The past was something he couldn’t change, as he well knew, and Draco’s sixteenth birthday had already passed, a mere five weeks before. Severus was-

He was not a coward, nor a man who shied away from terrible things. He had done terrible things, far worse than most people could ever imagine, with his own hands, condemned good people to die with his words, and watched others suffer without so much as a twitch of regret or doubt. He accepted all of this, let it settle heavy on his shoulders, no denial or excuses or justifications even to himself because there were people who deserved better than that from him. He was not a good man, and would never be. 

But when he’d gotten the notice of Draco’s coming of age, and a very thinly veiled invitation to take part in the festivities from a trembling, white faced Narcissa he’d refused, citing his end of term duties at Hogwarts as the reason. He’d gotten the feeling she wanted to press, to make demands of him, but with Lucius lingering just behind her during the fire call she’d merely pressed her thin lips together, eyes hard, and nodded before ending the floo call. He didn’t know what Lucius had planned for the boy and had found that he didn’t want to know, no matter what useful information might have been gathered in the process. 

He’d said as much to Dumbledore, half afraid he’d be ordered to attend and half hopeful the headmaster would somehow interfere on Malfoy’s behalf but all the older man had done was sigh and nod, looking every inch his many many years. They’d sat in the man’s office, under the nattering portraits of past headmasters, knowing they would do nothing. 

Severus had always known that Lucius thought lowly of omegas, in spite of marrying one of the prized Black omegas, and that the man had been sorely disappointed when his first child shared the dynamic of it’s mother. For years after he’d tried to get child after child onto Narcissa but it had always ended the same, until the Malfoy matriarch was rendered too...used to attempt another pregnancy. Severus didn’t expect much of the man, he had learned the hard way about such things, but he’d always held out hope that Narcissa would see her son treated well and not used as part of her husband’s machinations. 

Narcissa was, for her appearance of being a delicate waif who shrank behind her mate and did little besides gossip, play dress up, and coddle her son, every inch a Black Omega. (A large part of the reason the Blacks were such a large and prolific family was because of generations of omegas, making them desirable to other purebloods of means, in spite of their tendency towards mental instability. Indeed that was why it had been so easy to believe Sirius Black had joined the Death Eaters and seen most of his childhood friends killed; just another Black Omega gone round the bend.) They weren’t a lot to be trifled with and everyone with sense knew that. Narcissa loved her son more than she valued herself, of that Severus was sure, and history was full of tales, both real and fictional, of omegas pushed to new heights of power and fierceness in defense of their pups. Some even managed to rise up past the compulsion of the bond to defy, and kill, their mates. 

But Lucius was still very much alive and Draco had come back from his coming of age week withdrawn and quiet. Severus hadn’t asked after him, Malfoy hadn’t said a word, and Severus didn’t want to know. He had done his best to protect many a Slytherin who passed through his care, sometimes succeeding and sometimes not, but he also knew when something was far out of his control.  

So he set it aside, shoving the bile in the back of his throat down fiercely, clearing his mind, and striding up the walk to the bland home. He rapped on the door sharply, doing his best to not let the discomfort caused by the wards, a prickling burn like fire ants were swarming his skin, show on his face. There was a shout inside, a pause, a thunderous bellow and then quick, angry footsteps coming in his direction; he heard it all clearly, without even needing to use a listening charm. 

The Dursleys were a loud bunch it seemed. Fitting, considering how well Potter fit in with the Weasleys. 

The door opened and Severus got his first glimpse of Petunia Evans in over two decades. Tall and slim with thin, flaxen hair done in loose curls, pale watery blue eyes, and a grayish tint to her skin. She looked very much like he remembered, though perhaps a little less harsh and horselike in the face. “Hello, how can...i…” The words trailed off as those limpid eyes widened in shock and her lips pursed together with enough force to drive all color from them.

Severus amended his early thought; still very much like a horse when she made those sorts of faces. Lily had never cared for him making comparisons between her sister and animals, or his opinion that she had the charming personality of a cave troll. It had been unkind of him, he could admit that in hindsight, but Petunia had been equally as unkind, more so perhaps for her cruelty towards her sister. 

Thought Severus wasn’t exactly exempt from that sin, was he? No, he and Petunia shared many things, far from least of all their roles in protecting Potter. 

“You!” She paled and reared back, the sharp angles of her body rigid. If she’d been a wizard, on the dynamic spectrum, he was sure she would have been absolutely rank with the sour scent of fear; as it was her eyes bulged and her mouth gapped. “What are- you can’t- She’s dead, you know! You have no business here!” 

Severus chest twinged. “I’m here for Potter.” 

“For Harry?” She froze, as still as if he’d cast the full body bind on her, face aghast. Then her eyes darkened and something dangerous flashed in her eyes. “No. Absolutely not. Leave before I contact the police.” 

The burning of the wards increased, a thousand insect assaulting him in earnest. He rolled his eyes, wondering if Potter knew how lucky he was to have yet another person protecting him. Imagine a Muggle, fully aware of what a wizard was and what magic was capable of, refusing him. “I’m a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with full permission to collect Potter from the headmaster.” 

Her expression flickered, uncertain. “I-Proof! Do you have proof?”

He extracted the parchment Dumbledore had given him, sealed in wax with the school’s seal as well as Dumbledore’s personal one, from his coat and offered it to her as best he could without putting any part of himself over the threshold of the home. Doing so without being invited would see him not just ejected painfully, but wiped mentally and under a compulsion to wander very far away with no idea why he’d been here at all. But once permission was granted, by Petunia or Harry, he’d be able to come and go as he pleased. 

He would have preferred going through Potter, it would have saved him the trouble of dragging out ‘casual’ Muggle clothes in the form of an old worn gray sweater over black collared shirt with black slacks that had once belonged to his father, but Albus had seemed to think this was more appropriate. The headmaster didn’t want him ‘alarming’ Potter’s family 

She snatched it away, breaking the seal with shaking fingers, and turned away slightly as she read it over. Severus waited, attention turning to what lay behind her. The house was as boring inside, from what he could see of it, as it was outside. Eye assaulting shades of pink covered the walls, uncomfortable furniture that seemed more for show than use in what he could see of the living room, pictures on the wall of the hallway and staircase of Petunia with a large ruddy faced man and equally big and red faced child, each frame holding another snapshot in time, showing age and growth. 

There were no pictures of Potter. 

Peeking out of the kitchen was the very boy from the pictures, though slimmer than he was in most of the pictures, with the same washed out eyes and hair of his mother. He looked anxious and, when he noticed Severus staring back, vanished with a yelp.

“Fine.” Petunia spat, parchment crinkling into a ball in her hands. “Take him, he’s upstairs, but be quick. I don’t want any more freaks in my house than need to be! And...see that you lot keep him this year, I won’t endure another year of...this!” She took a hasty step back when Severus stepped into the house, and through the wards which now only hummed their protective song over his body. “I don’t care what he says, he’s done all of this to himself, it wasn’t us.” 

Severus stopped, head tilting to the side. “Done what to himself?”  

She hesitated visibly, a calculating look that reminded him eerily of Lily on her face, then she turned away, arms crossed over her chest, to stalk towards the room her son had disappeared into. Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she glided past. “Just take him.”

He watched her go, listened to her coo “It’s okay Dudders, he’s just here to take Harry back, and then we can have a nice, normal summer.” 

Severus shook away the urge to follow after and demand answers, that was far too much like Potter’s behavior for his tastes, and instead made himself focus on the matter at hand. Up the stairs, around the corner, and he headed for the only shut door he saw, assuming that where Potter must be. If not for the fact that all the other rooms were empty when spared a glance then because he could smell the faint scent of an immature wizard in the hall and it got stronger at the door. It was old and barely there, years of build up lingering from so much casual transfer, but it stood out in the void the house was otherwise. 

Immature wizards all smelled vaguely the same, bland, unappealing, and ‘clean’ for lack of a better word, mixed with a trace of whoever had bore them for the first few years of their life. None of the defining undertones came on until the sixteenth birthday, be it the more earthy notes of a beta, the musk of an alpha, or the sweet traces of an omega, nor did a person’s more unique traits develop until around that time. The immature scent was distinct, and invoked in most a desire to protect and shield, or at the very least to overlook. 

But, Severus noted once he was in front of the door, there was something else here, something that brushed softly against a scent memory. He waited, breathing in to try to catch the elusive touch, but nothing came to mind. 

Nevermind it. Probably just a trace of Potter’s developing scent, they were close to his birthday after all.  

“Potter, get up, the headmaster has sent me to collect you.” He said to announce himself, hand already on the knob. It rattled under his hand but didn’t turn; a quick glance down and he found it was locked from the outside. And it was no simple flimsy knob either, but something shining and new, heavy, with a key lock. He could see the light scratches in the wood around it from when, he presumed, the original had been taken out and this new one put in. He pressed his lips together, casting a narrow glance back towards the stairs even as he waved a hand to unlock the door.  

Nothing about this felt right, and why hadn’t Potter answered him? “Potter?” 

A push had the door opened and, unprepared as he was, Severus almost gagged as a mix of stale sweat, rot, and distressed omega wafted out over him. He was grateful, as he squinted burning eyes and swallowed hard, that he wasn’t an omega; they had notoriously sensitive noses (The better to keep track of pups and weed out threats with) and he was sure a presented one would be sick if they walked into this. 

The room was dark, heavy curtains over the window blocking out all the midday light, and now only the faint sunlight from the hall illuminating things, but Severus adjusted quickly. What he saw was...not promising. A glance to one side showed plates of food piled high on a desk, seemingly untouched and reeking like they’d been there a while, and unopened letters. The other side had a small pile of clothes in one corner that smelled like they were in need of a wash (or a good burning). The bed that took up a fair amount of the cramped space (the room was more a large closet than a bedroom sizewise, and Severus knew a thing or two about living in tight conditions from his childhood) was covered in blankets far too heavy for how stuffy and hot the room was. 

The lump in the center of the bed was, undoubtedly, Potter. It stayed put even as he strode closer, mouth twisted in disgust. The smell of sweat and unwashed boy   
“Potter!” He reached down to grab the edge of the blankets. “Have you lost your hearing along with all of your other senses?” And his sense of shame. Severus knew teenage boys could be messy, and yes even revolting when it came to hygiene and cleanliness, but this was ridiculous. If he’d ever walked into a Slytherin dorm in anything close to this state he would have stripped so many points, so fast, from his own house that heads would have spun. 

Did Potter truly live like that? What was he waiting for, his aunt to come and clean up after him or-

Severus’ eyes slid back to the untouched plates as he recalled the locked door just as the blankets came away. 

Bleary green eyes peered up at him from behind thick lashed, foggy with confusion and so bloodshot the whites were more pink than anything else. Potter looked terrible. Hair even more of a mess than normal, lank and falling in clumps, cheeks sunken, deep bruises in the hollows of his eyes, skin sallow, with bruises littering his bare arms and legs. His t-shirt and sleep shorts were alarming big on him (they couldn’t possibly be his, could they? They seemed more his cousin’s size.) and he seemed much smaller that Severus recalled him being in them. 

Severus’ first thought was that it had only been two and a half weeks since the end of term, how could he look so awful? The second, right on the heels of that, was that Potter was coming into his scent faster than Severus would have thought. It was muddled, the boy was in desperate need of a shower, but under the appalling odor it was there and god, Severus knew it. Not exactly, it wasn’t exactly the same, but it was so very close to Lily. 

Warm and sugary sweet, it made Severus think of the time the Evans’ had taken him along to a street fair and bought him candyfloss. He’d spent so long just taking little bits, letting them melt into nothingness on his tongue, relished the way the sweet and slightly fruity taste filled his mouth and the way the smell had tickled his nose; Lily had smelled like that and so did Harry, albeit a little sharper (citrusy, almost.) Severus’ heart thudded in his chest and his body warmed, relaxed, betraying him in response to the scent memory. It didn’t matter that it had been so long, that he’d been rejected and furious and lashed out, that he couldn’t think of her without choking on his self-loathing because to the parts of him that were all alpha, all dumb, ancient animal instinct, it was…

Peace. Home. 

A host of things he didn’t have and didn’t deserve, and wasn’t it just his luck that Harry would inherit more than just Lily’s eyes?

“Pr’fesser?” Harry said, blinking at him sleepily. Severus sneered at him. 

“Get dressed. We’re leaving.” 

Another blinked and then a wet sniffle that did loathsome things to his heart and stomach. Potter shook his head and, with far too much effort turned onto his side, back to Severus. Who stared, irritation rising up to stomp down on the heat bubbling low in his stomach. Had Potter just refused him? He ground his teeth together, silently wondering once again why this had to be done by him, before crouching down and grabbing the boys shoulder, surprised at how boney it felt under his palm. He didn’t let that stop him from yanking Potter back, forcing him onto his back and glaring down at him with all of the considerable frustration he was feeling. 

Potter winced then cracked open his eyes again. “please-”

Obnoxious brat.  

“The Headmaster wants you out of here before your birthday, and for once in your life you’re going to actually do as your told without argument. You’re going to present Omega in less than two weeks, and I’m sure you understand why that can’t happen here, so I’m taking you to Hogwarts.” 

Potter said nothing, chest rise and falling under the excess fabric of his shirt and face completely devoid of anything. Severus had always thought the boy too easy to read, in a great many ways, but now there was nothing except a shadow in his eyes. 

“Get. Up.” Severus’s already thin shred of patience was wearing fast, as it often did in Potter’s presence. “Or I’ll make you get up.” 

The boy moved, slowly and gingerly, as if he was in pain, heaving himself up to a sitting position before wavering on the spot. What little color there was to him washed out and Severus reached out to steady him, afraid the boy would just topple over otherwise. What was going on here? Potter hadn’t looked great when the term ended, no, but he hadn’t given the impression of being mere weeks away from being unable to sit up in bed. 

“Are you injured?” Albus would throw a fit if his precious tool was hurt and Severus didn’t try to remedy it. 

Potter’s eyes cut across to him as a frown pulled at his lips. “Omega?”

“Yes. Congratulations Potter, you’ll soon be even more sought after than you are now, and your name will no doubt be in every paper in the wizarding world once again.” 

The boy’s eyes widened, opening fully for the first time. “Why? What...what is that?” 

Severus’ eyebrows jumped up. “What? You...is that a joke?” Was Potter trying to draw this out for some reason, or trying to force Severus to...to do what? As soon as a flash of ire came he waved it away, unable to see any gain in Potter playing stupid now. He had to be aware that Severus would be making him come along no matter and stalling would only irritate him more. Besides, didn’t Potter want to return to the castle and Albus’ company, rather than stay in this tiny foul room with his hated professor? There was no reason he’d make that take longer than it already was. 

Which left only that the question was genuine and that was almost impossible for Severus to accept. True, the boy was raised by Muggles but all Muggle-born students were giving a brief course on the dynamics in their first and fifth year. 

But Potter wasn’t Muggle-born, was he? 

Still someone should have, must have...the Weasleys! They had three alphas, William, Fred, and George, and two omegas, Percy and Ronald, among their obscene number of children. At some point the parents, if not Ronald himself, would have said something. In fact Ron himself had presented earlier than year; how had he explained to Potter why he would be traveling home for a week if not with his coming of age and first cycle? 

Though if they’d assumed Harry would be a beta, as most half-bloods were and as his wizarding parent had been, they might not have seen reason. And ones first heat wasn’t exactly polite conversation and Severus could see Weasley not wanting to discuss it with Potter.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, cursing every single person who had passed through Potter’s life and not thought to give him even this scrap of basic wizarding information. He was not a mediwitch or otherwise trained to explain...explain...the Fairies and the Scarab Beetles to anyone, let alone Lily’s son. Her omega son, whose scent had shifted to the unpleasant tang of confusion and upset, which was only slightly better than the sour milk scent of misery that hung in the air. 

“I’ll only be explaining this once, so listen carefully.” Severus muttered, eyes darting over to the clock on Potter’s nightstand. This was taking longer than he’d expected; he’d have to talk and get the boy ready at the same time. “Your things, where-”

“In the trunk.” Harry gestured uncaringly towards the foot of the bed. “I never unpacked.” 

“There are three designations among wizards, alpha, beta, and omega. Some call them secondary sexes, or dynamics, or any number of things.” Wordlessly Severus cast a cleaning spell on the boy; it was a rough one, on the weaker side, and Potter yelped as most of the grime and sweat was whisked away from his body, but it would serve. “Betas are, these days, the majority but some families occasionally turn out alphas and omegas. On a wizard’s sixteenth birthday they’ll...inherit certain traits, of their designation, and in alphas and omegas there will be a brief period of physical change. It’s wholly unpleasant, and one can find themselves doing regrettable things, which is why you’re better off elsewhere.”

Severus had done some truly abhorrent things to a set of silk scarves and knickers, stolen from the clothesline of a neighbor, and used to rut against when the burning of his constantly swollen knot had become too unbearable to handle barehanded. 

He’d never been able to look that neighbor in the eye again. 

He shrank and pocket Harry’s trunk and empty owl cage as he spoke, well aware of the boy watching him with that same blank expression. It was unnerving. 

“Omegas are…The cycles omegas have is called a heat. It will make one-” Severus rolled his eyes heavenward and shut his mouth with a click. He couldn’t do this! He was not going to have a sex talk with with Potter! With his luck the boy would think he was some kind of pervert, spitting wild tales of sex focused fevers and changing bodies and submissive natures which, by the by, Potter had never shown a hint of. Severus couldn’t imagine Potter on his knees for anyone, let alone wanting to be there. 

It was said to be innate in omegas to seek a mate who was worthy of their total devotion and submission, someone they could entrust their bodies, hearts, and magic to bond with. When the right mate was found an omega would know, somehow, and would happily serve their mate until the end of their days. (Soppy nonsense, really. How could one really know a person could be entrusted with that, wouldn’t betray them?) A perfect submissive to an alpha’s dominant, which didn’t seem to allow room for betas in the equation, something Severus known from experience was foolish. 

A person’s submission could take many forms, from being a quiet shadow to their mate at all times, like Narcissa, or the willing helper and backbone while still deferring to their mate like Molly Weasley, it could mean playing obedient slave or adored bet, and so many other things. A longing to serve and be of service, to be wanted and worthy, to please, or so Severus had been told. None of which connected with Potter in his mind. The boy was too rowdy, impossible to manage, resistant to discipline or reason-

Severus would go mad with a mate like that. 

Nothing he had to worry about, thankfully, since this courtship was going to be extremely fake.   

Not that they could even get to that if Potter wasn’t brought up to speed. Severus considered, briefly, letting Albus handle thus then decided that was too cruel a fate, even for Potter. A sex talk from Albus was likely to put one off the act forever. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and, looking everywhere but at the boy, tried again. “Omegas are different from betas and alphas in that all of them, regardless of gender, are able to carry children. Moreover, they’re able to carry many children, in the form of multiples or many pregnancies without ill effects, something few beta or alpha women are capable of.” 

There were exceptions, like Narcissa, but that didn’t change that omegas were sought after for their ‘litters’. Heirs were important to pureblood families, and omegas were able to provide many. That omegas were often strong in magic, and could pass that trait on, was just another bonus. 

That was more than Potter likely needed to know. “A heat is an extended time of...sexual arousal, where an omega is receptive to bre- becoming pregnant. If spent alone it can be a painful time, though survivable, but there is a risk that an omega can become Heat Addled, and leave the safety of their heat space to find a partner, even if they’d normally do no such thing.”

If desperate enough even a muggle was likely to do, and taking by force was not beyond a Heat Addled omega, the drive to breed capable of override everything else. 

“You’ll need watched over during, to make sure that doesn’t happen, something your relatives likely won’t be able to do. Your sense of smell will heighten, you’ll start to react different to those around you, some of your features may change-” He didn’t even want to begin to get into the sensation of one's eye teeth falling out and being replaced by either alpha or omega teeth; it had been...unpleasant, to say the least. “And your magic potentially swells you’ll need to be eased back into things, so you don’t accidentally inflate anyone or-” Severus stopped, looking down for the first time to meet the oddly silent Potter’s face and finding the boy looking like he’d just been hit in the back of the head with a bludger. Stunned and a little stupid, mouth open and eyes bugged out. “Potter? Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” 

“...pregnant? Me?” 

Barely listening. “For the sake of the world, I should hope not.” Severus deadpanned. “If you’ll pay attention for a change-”

“I’m a boy. I can’t...I. I-” 

Severus watched, decidedly unimpressed, as the boys eyes rolled up into his head and he flopped over boneless in a dead faint. “Wonderful.” He drawled. 

Though, actually, this might be a good thing. He fingering the ring he was wearing, made into a portkey by Minerva for this trip. He could just take Potter, drop him on Albus’ floor, explain the mess he’d found the world’s savior in, then return to his quarters to get incredibly drunk until such a time as he was required to babysit through Potter’s heat. 

He squinted at the boy. 

Incredibly drunk until Potter’s heat had passed, perhaps. 

\----

Albus looked from the ungainly heap of Potter on his floor (aided by a small sleeping charm to keep him in that state until Severus was at least three drinks in) up to Severus and back, lips twitching up into what surely was *not* a grin. “I do not think knocking Harry out is the best way to go about these things but, as I have just finished preparing the safe house the two of you are to spend the rest of the holiday at-” 

“The what?” 

“I will accept this. Here's your portkey.” Albus gestured towards a ring sitting on the edge of his desk, the twinkle in his eye giving way to tiredness. “Don’t think too badly of me, my boy, for hoping to avoid the argument that convincing Harry this is for his own good is sure to be.” 

Severus blinked. Blinked again. Growled. “So you’d have me deal with that, like I had to explain to Potter what an omega is?” Severus wasn’t surprised the hard work was being pushed onto him, more surprised that Albus was being so blatant about it. 

“Oh?” Albus leaned back into his seat, eyes brightening. “That’s unexpected. Luckily there are some very information books and pamphlets already at the same house that I’m sure Harry will find useful.” Severus debated asking how Albus already had books ready for this ‘unexpected’ turn but decided after a beat it just wasn’t worth it. Not even remotely. Instead he stepped back to Potter’s side, grabbing the collar of his oversized shirt (and nothing noticing how it slipped around to show off a creamy shoulder and sharp collarbone, and held out his hand for the ring with a muttered “Accio.” 

It was only in the moment the ring slapped against his palm and he felt the tug behind his belly button that he realized he hadn’t spoken to the headmaster about the boy’s strange living situation or the state he’d found him in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Severus gets an unwilling crash course in omega depression while Harry slips deeper and further away. The Daily Prophet publishes an interesting article. The countdown to Harry's birthday begins. 
> 
> Is this accidently a comedy? Maybe.


	3. Informational Reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is having some issues reconciling things, gender wise. He's fifteen and confused, and a touch limited about how he sees things, so give him some time. But also if this is triggering for you be wary. Also a more clear look at how omega biology/coming of age works in this universe.

Harry woke up slowly, thoughts hazy and body hesitant to respond to him. He was groggy, heavy, and warm all over. Comfortable, he thought as he blinked muzzily up at the stark white ceiling, he was comfortable and wasn’t that strange? He was never comfortable at the Dursleys, the bed they provided small, shakey, and lately he’d been waking up sore and stiff. There was no position that kept him from being hyper aware of the thinness of the bed, the roughness of it, the hard lines of bars and springs he could feel digging into his back, the sway caused by uneven legs of the cot. 

He would have liked to spend as little time in the uncomfortable bed as possible, but he’d been so cold lately, near constantly. Even when he was outside, working in the yard and wearing Dudley’s thick, oversized hand me downs he was shivering, a chill lingering deep in his bones. The only place he wasn’t was when he was in the bed, wearing layers of clothes and huddled under the many sheets and old worn quilts he’d been quietly taking from around the house when the Dursleys were out. 

It didn’t do much to make the cot more tolerable, but when everything else meant feeling cold and strange (Exhausted. He was exhausted all the time, and something else that he couldn’t put a name to, that only crept up when he was outdoors. He felt small, ill fitting in his own skin, exposed, felt like he needed to get back inside whenever he wasn’t already there) it was easier to just stay in bed. His aunt and uncle tolerated it like they wouldn’t have in years previous, rarely calling on him to cook or clean for them. Food was pushed through the slot in his door once a day and otherwise he was mostly left alone. 

Not that he ate much. Nothing sat right in his stomach at all, and everything tasted like rot and ash on his tongue. He slept a lot, in short snatches until nightmares woke him up, laid on the cot staring at the ceiling trying no to think about anything at all if he could help it, and occasionally looking listless at his trunk and the meters and meters of summer essays waiting his attention, always before rolling back over and trying to sleep again. 

Getting up hurt. Staying put didn’t. 

Things were easier when he was asleep. There was no crying until he was hoarse and his eyes near swollen shut, no ache low in his stomach or throbbing in his chest. He couldn’t think about Sirius and his failures of the year before, couldn’t think about Voldemort. Yes there were dreams, and he dreaded another vision invading his mind, but he could always count on a few hours of absolutely nothing before he was brought screaming and sobbing back to reality. 

That hadn’t happened this time though, had it? He’d woken up normally for what felt like the first time since the Department of Mysteries. And he was comfortable. And, Harry realized as he squinted in an attempt to sharpen his vision, that was not his ceiling. Same color but it seemed to be slopping gentle upwards and there were shadowed parts spaced regularly, stretching from where it met the wall on one side to what looked like the peak of the slope, where it met the opposite wall. 

Harry jackknifed up, the heavy blankets draped over his body dropping away, panic blooming in his chest. He reached out to the side for his glasses on reflex, cursing himself a moment later because if this wasn’t his room, wasn’t his bed, then why would his glasses be where they- his fingers brushed the familiar curved shape and cool metal. He grasped them, fingers sliding over the lenses before he got a grip and hastily put them on. 

A look around found him in a decently sized bedroom, larger than the one at the Dursleys or even Ron’s at the Burrow but not quite on par with Grimmauld Place (he put the Black family home out of his mind as soon as it entered, chest tightening painfully.) The ceiling and 3 of the walls were long planks of whitewashed wood, and the back wall white stone. A single window sat in the stone wall looking out onto the sun setting behind low rolling, grassy hills, dotted with white stone formations and gently waving wildflowers.

Inside the room was sparsely furnished, a wardrobe pushed against one wall, a desk and chair right next to it, and the small bedside table where Harry’s glasses had been and a stack of books now sat. There was the bed itself, dull brass foot and headboard, a pile of folded blankets piled at the end in varying shades of red and blue, plus the heavy blue and red patched quilt now pooled around his waist. The mattress felt thick, soft but firm at the same time, stacked high with large fluffy pillows, and was...big. Bigger than his Hogwarts bed by far, Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he could fit himself and all his dorm mates on it. At the foot of the bed his trunk sat with Hedwig’s cage placed on top. 

The sun painted the walls warm shades of pink and orange and, in spite of himself, Harry found himself relaxing fractionally. He didn’t know where this was or how he’d gotten there but it was...nice. Warm. He didn’t feel like it was the sort of place someone wanting to hurt him would take him, nor would they take the time to tuck him and-

Oh. 

He looked down at himself, picked up the blanket to look underneath and confirmed that he was wearing gray flannel pajamas instead of the ill fitting shorts and t-shirt he remembered putting on last. Someone had redressed him and, maybe, cleaned him up some? He didn’t feel as sweaty or sticky as he had last time he’d been awake, and that odd sweet-yeasty smell that had lingered around his bed was gone. 

It was embarrassing, mortifying, to think someone had seen him that way and his cheeks flamed up as he let the quilt and sheets fall back into place. It hadn’t been intentional, letting himself get so...out of sorts. It was hard, and getting harder, to get out of bed or want to do things like wash and eat. Some days just the thought of leaving the bed made it hard to breathe, panic and anxiety gripping his insides and twisting until he gave up, and other times it...he couldn’t do it. He might think about it, tell himself it was only twenty or so steps to the bathroom, that he’d only have to be in there a few minutes to clean himself up, a few more to put on different clothes, and even though he knew that was all truth it was too much some days. 

He couldn’t explain it to himself why such simple things suddenly seemed on par with scoring top marks in Potions or learning to keep Voldemort out of his head (hopeless, impossible, not worth even trying to do.) and knew he wouldn’t be able to justify it to whoever had brought him here. 

Maybe it would be better if it was someone who wanted him dead. It would save him some humiliation at least. 

Another look around brought his attention back to the bedside table and the books on it. The words on the spine of one had him reaching for the stack, heart fluttering as he swallowed convulsively. 

_ Your Omega Body and You _

_ Presentation: An Omega’s Guide to Coming of Age  _

_ The Heat Book  _

_ Everyone Has a Season  _

_ Omegan Etiquette: A Primer  _

_ Courting and you! Everybody's Guide to Traditional Courtship Practices  _

_ An Alpha’s Handbook to the Omega Teen  _

_ Submission: Confessions and Desires of an Omega  _

Omega. He’d heard that word before, hadn’t he? It squirmed in the back of his mind as he sorted the books out, putting the heavier and thicker ones aside in favor of two slim, brightly colored ones with blocky writing on the spines and cover. He ran his fingers over the word  _ Presentation  _ then down to the cheerful picture on the front, of two smiling long haired figures in wizarding robes and pointed hats, standing side by side. 

_ “You’re going to present Omega.”  _ A low, dark voice, worming into his brain; shivery electricity crawled down his spine and his stomach flipped. _ “You’ll soon be even more sought after than you are now.”  _

Professor Snape. It was Professor Snape who’d been in his room, who had likely brought him here. Harry’s fingers tightened around the book for a moment, sourness rising up the back of his throat and coating his tongue. Of all the people to come barging into his life, who could see him like that, it just had to be Snape. Anger, banked but not forgotten since the end of term, tried to claw back and make it’s presence known, reminding him that he hated Snape. 

Snape was to blame for Sirius’ death, because...because…

No, that wasn’t right. It was Harry’s fault, for not trying harder. He should have done more, should have been *better*. Instead of letting Snape get under his skin, and invading the man’s memories, instead of leaving his mind vulnerable after being told time and again that he was doing so, he should have done what he needed to do. 

It was his fault, no one else's.  

He swallowed again, trying to force away the familiar stinging of tears behind his eyes, and instead opened the book roughly. The first page came to life as soon as he settled on it, neat black words rising up on the surface of the page and two dark haired figures, not the ones from the cover, waved at him enthusiastically.  _ “This is Lorna and Victor. They’re a mated couple and expecting their first litter.”  _

The next page was the same two, one holding two small blanket wrapped bundles and the other a single one. They were alternating between smiling down at them adoringly and angling their bodies so Harry could see two round, cherubic faces peeking out of the blankets. Their cheeks were flushed with obvious pride.  _ “These are their pups. The oldest, Vitya, is an alpha and the two youngest, Sasha and Alexi, are omegas like their Dam.” _

On the next page Sasha and Alexi were alone, children with heads of dark curly hair, bright blue eyes, and identical heart shaped faced with slightly flushed cheeks and smiling red mouths. The one labeled Sasha had longer hair, drawn up away from their face into messy pigtails, and Alexi shorter hair that just brushed their ears.  _ “Their parents raise them as proper omegas, teaching them about how they will change and what their nature means.”  _

On the next page Alexi and Sasha slipped across the open white space, growing from children to teenagers in black school robes, Alexi still shorthaired and wearing a gray uniform skirt and white shirt, wand in hand and Sasha long haired, in slacks and a blazer, leaning against a broom. Harry paused, frowning as the drawn twins leaned close to each other, whispering, giggling, and pointing up at him. Hadn’t it said they were boys?  _ “Most omegas are born with bodies that, on the outside, look like those of beta boys, but on the inside Alexi and Sasha are different. No one will be able to tell until they’re sixteen and their bodies change. There are some exceptions, but those are rare.”  _

The next picture was of Alexi, peering adoringly up at a taller figure, broad and masculine with wavy blond hair. The image rippled and they pair was at a small table, holding hands across it, under the watchful eye of Sasha. Another ripple and they were arm and arm, walking together with Sasha trailing behind.  _ “Alexi’s parents approve a courtship with Hans, a professor, when Alexi is fifteen. Hans brings milestone gifts, takes Alexi on chaperoned outings, pledges his intent and fidelity, and makes an official mating declaration just before Alexi turns sixteen. Alexi’s parents accept, and make plans for Alexi to spend their first heat with Hans.” _

A simple page, without words, showing Alexi with their head bent forward, hand up to drag down the collar of their shirt at the back, while Hans nuzzled at their neck. The blond man kissed the nape then opened his mouth, showing a fanged smile, and bite down hard on Alexi’s neck. The picture melted together and became a black circle, hazy around the edges. 

Harry drug his tongue over his lips. His stomach was twisting and he felt warm, skin prickling. He squirmed a little, eyes darting around before he hesitantly turned to the next page. He didn’t understand what he was seeing and reading, why had Hans bitten Alexi, and more than that he didn’t understand why he was so out of breath now, why he felt so strange. 

_ “Sasha is not courting. They have the option of spending their first heat alone, which can be very painful, or finding a trusted friend to take care of them. Sasha asks David and David accepts.”  _

Sasha stood alone at first then the image melted to show them side by side with a man, darker skinned with close cropped brown hair. There was a dark circle around their neck, a thick choker maybe? The pair weren’t touching at first, but they were smiling and seemed comfortable. Right before Harry moved on their hands touched, fingers curling together.

Harry turned the page then yelped, hand slapping over the diagram there. He flushed darkly; was  **that** entirely appropriate for a children’s book, really? And a wizarding book at that! He’d always thought wizards were kind of...strict, and uptight yet right there, under his hand was…

He peeked again to confirm and yes, there it was. A black and white diagram of a man’s genitalia. It was very plain, like something out of his Care of Magical Creatures text, but he still felt awkward looking down at the picture. A penis, testacles, and anus, with only the words ‘ _ Before Presentation’  _ blinking at him from a corner. The letters moved, spiraled, assembled before his eyes and so did the picture. Harry’s eyes widened and his heart skipped a few beats. 

The balls shrank away, the penis became smaller and thinner and a line rose up in the area between anus and scrotum, darkened then split to become a darkened, opened slit. 

_ “After Presentation: Final Omega Development.” _

In his haste to shut and be rid of the book Harry lost his grip on it and sent it tumbling to the floor. His throat was tight and his head full of a loud frantic buzzing as he tried desperately to make sense of what he’d seen, of what it meant. Omegas ‘changed’ when they turned sixteen, according to the book (and Snape had something about it too, hadn’t he?), like...like that? Their bits moved around and a...a...girl part, down there? That was what it was, wasn’t it? Not that he’d ever seen a girl naked in person, but Seamus was a connoisseur of dirty card decks, having no less than a dozen that looked normal until a phrase was spoken and they transformed into various lewd images, so Harry was completely naive. 

He’d seen some things.

Was that going to happen to him?

It couldn’t! Could it? The book said-but things like that didn’t happen! People didn’t just change or grow new parts! It didn’t make sense. 

But when did anything ever make sense in his life? Hadn’t magic seemed like something that couldn’t be real until it was? And magical creatures, flying brooms, people who turned into animals, and so much more. Wasn’t he connected, via a cursed scar on his forehead, to the very madman who’d killed his parents, nearly killed him, lost his body in the process only to claw himself back to life after a decade of playing disembodied soul?

Hadn’t that connection, and his stupidity and arrogance, lost him his godfather? 

Could he really say anything was impossible after everything he’d seen? 

But that was-

“You’re awake.” Snape’s voice was all oil and disdain, perfectly matching the expression on his face as he peered down his beaklike nose at Harry. Dark eyes flickered over to the pile of books then down to the one on the floor, face down and open, spine bent awkwardly; thin lips pressed together tighter in open disapproval. “And throwing things that don’t belong to you onto the floor.” 

The man strode forward, crossing the room in three long strides. He wasn’t wearing the long flowing robes that Harry was used to seeing him in, dressed in simple, crisp pressed black trousers and a black button down shirt instead, but he was no less intimidating or put together. Harry shrank back against the pile of pillows behind him in spite of himself, heart leaping into his throat. He had long since resolved to not let Snape frighten him like he did hapless first years, or at least to not show it anymore, but he found himself drawing his legs up close to his body, something telling him to make himself small, unseen, to not let the man see him. 

It didn’t make sense, Snape had already seen him, was now at the side of the bed and reaching for the discarded book, he had been seen. And yet he curled up more, arms around his legs and head ducking. 

He wanted to be angry, tried to call up thoughts of how this man had mocked and taunted his Godfather, how he’d terrorized, bullied, and humiliated him at every turn, of how utterly unfair he’d been from the moment they’d met, before Harry had done a single thing, all because of his last name. 

But the anger that should have been easy to summon fizzled out in his chest and left only a thundering heart and unease. 

“Cease your cowering, Potter, it makes your smell nauseating.” 

His what?

Snape straightened up with a sneer even as he looked down at the book he’d picked up. Then blinked, expression faltering before his eyes rolled heavenward. “Ah. The Change. I didn’t expect the book to be so...graphic, in it’s explanation. It’s meant for children not yet in their year of school and-” Snape shut the offending book shut with a rough cough and, after a visible hesitation, set it onto the bedside table. He looked decidedly uncomfortable as he squinted down at Harry. “I suppose I should stress that it is a...perfectly natural process, undergone by some 90% of omegas and so there is no harm in it being in a child’s book. You should be comfortable with your body, and aware of what is going to happen.” 

Harry knew he was staring, mouth open in shock, and that he must have looked ridiculous doing so but Snape was speaking to him, without insults or raising his voice, and looked so uncomfortable doing so it was almost funny. 

Would have been, if not for the subject matter. 

“That...the picture in that book? It’s going to happen to me?” He shuddered, stomach turning as the shifting diagram appeared in his mind as clear as if he were looking at it again. “You said I was an omega?” 

“You were listening then. It was hard to be sure, what with the way you were wallowing in squalor and mostly unresponsive.” Another narrow eyed look. “I won’t have you doing the same here, Potter, so put whatever disgusting habits you allow yourself at home out of your mind.” 

And there was the mockery, a little late but no less sharp than usual, and all the harsher because Harry deserved it this time. He couldn’t say anything to defend himself, not about how completely he’d fallen apart in just a few weeks. He nodded his understanding, fingers digging into the soft fabric of the sleep pants he was wearing. Snape was silent for a beat, staring down at him like Harry was a puzzle he didn’t understand, before sneering and turning away. 

“Wonderful. I suggest you read through these books, I assume their presence here means all you need to know about your state, and the upcoming changes, is contained within. I would prefer to spend the next few weeks working on lesson plans and brewing in peace, and ask you manage to keep yourself entertained until such a time as you can be handed over to someone else. I am not your babysitter, Potter, and I won’t be treated as one.” 

Harry nodded again then, clearing his throat nervously, asked: “Where are we? And why?” 

“This is a cottage the Headmaster arranged for, to keep you far from any threats, and to punish me for daring to exist.” Snape sighed, loud and long suffering. “To keep you safe during your heat. The next few weeks will be a vulnerable time, as your magic and body come to full maturation, and until those changes settle you’re at risk for forced mating, for starters, but also for magical flare ups, fits of instinct driving you to do untoward things you may regret, and things of that nature.

“You will also need to register formally with the Ministry as on omega, which I will take you to do just before your birthday. This will no doubt bring out a great many enterprising wizards trying to court you into marriage and mating, yet another reason to keep you as isolated as possible until all the fuss passes.” 

Marriage? People were going to want to marry him!? He wasn’t even old enough to get married and why would people who didn’t even know him want to do so, just because- 

Wait, he remembered now. Snape had said people wanted omegas because they could have kids, a lot of kids, and so many wizards were obsessed with bloodlines and heirs and *power* and Merlin’s balls, he could have kids. He could get pregnant and give birth, he assumed since it looked like he’d have the equipment for it it and...he was going to have a...a...a-

He couldn’t wrap his brain around it. He had come to accept many  “I’m a boy!” 

“You’re an omega.” Snape said, tone bland. 

Harry shook his head, mouth open to protest. Then shut it with a click and pressed a hand to a throbbing temple. He was an omega, or so Snape said and for all that the man was a cruel, evil, greasy monster Harry didn’t think he’d lie about something that he’d be able to ask others about later, and would claim to be acting under Dumbledore’s orders for that reason if it weren’t so. So he was an omega, whatever that meant. 

He rubbed his temple harder then, in a voice so soft and uncertain he cringed to hear it, asked “So I’m not a boy?” 

Snape looked at him askance. “That seems like the sort of think you ought to know, Mister Potter, not me.”  

He’d thought he did know at least that much about himself, hadn’t he, until about sixty seconds ago and now he wasn’t sure he knew much of anything at all. 

Snape looked bored, terribly so, as he turned on his heel and swept towards the door. “Dinner is nearly ready. I’ll show you the house then you can get a proper wash-” Harry’s face burned. “And eat.” 

Harry didn’t move at first, reeling from so much information that explained nothing at all about what was happening, and stricken by the now familiar exhaustion that seemed to swallow him up every time he thought about leaving the bed. It seemed a change in location did little to alleviate that. He watched Snape step out of the room, turn to the left and vanish, all without so much as a twitch on his part. He sat, head dropping down to rest on his knees, and tried to clear his mind. 

It was no more possible there, in that warm, bright bedroom than it had been in the dank, dim dungeons last term. 

Snape announced his return with an annoyed snap of “Potter! I do loathe to repeat myself.”

“‘M not hungry. Can I-”

“No!” Snape snarled. Harry jumped and a cold, heavy stone dropped into his stomach. “You’ll need to keep your energy up in the weeks to come, and I won’t be blamed for a rough Presentation you caused. Now. Get. Up.” 

Snape’s voice was different. The words were a low hiss, but echoed in Harry’s head with weight and force akin to a smack on the back from Hagrid. He felt them, searing through him, settling with sickening heaviness in his stomach, radiating stifling heat through his body, boiling his blood. It was pain but not exactly pain like he was used to, agony but satisfying, almost...sweet, on the back of his tongue. 

His head hurt.  

Harry got up. His brain whited out, every bit of noise in his skull dropping away, and his legs moved before he’d even decided to make the choice. His skin prickled hot, his body moved, and the few seconds before he was at Snape’s side were the longest of his life, which was saying something. 

He looked up at Snape. Snape looked back, eyebrows lifting. 

“You’re susceptible to alpha commands.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Snape made a face. “It means that’s another thing Professor Dumbledore will force me to waste my time training you to deal with. Come, so I can inform him of this latest wrinkle.” 

Harry took one last longing look at the bed, and all it’s lovely pillows and blankets, before falling in step just behind the older man.

He noticed, distantly, that the air around Snape smelled thickly of smoke and herbs, like the potions classroom but more pleasant in a way. 

Odd how he’d never noticed that before.  

 

\---

 

“That could be a problem.” Dumbledore’s head, floating in the bright green flames of the small cottage’s fireplace agreed. Snape had marched Harry out to the cozy front room, told him to sit and be silent in that same voice he’d told him to get up with then, when Harry had woodenly sat without a word, floocalled the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore had seemed delighted to see Harry at first, congratulating him on his upcoming birthday and ‘omegan status’ before Snape had tersely explained that Harry was ‘a useless empty headed pet omega’. Explained was a rather generous term, since he’d said those exact words, flailed a little in irritation, then glared hotly at Harry. It had taken a few moments for Dumbledore to work out that Snape meant Harry was ‘weak to alphas’, which brought them to where they were now. 

Harry, sitting silent and increasingly furious that everytime he considered defying Snape and speaking his head throbbed and his nerves burned. Snape red faced and near spitting in anger, and Dumbledore soft eyed with concerned. 

“A problem?” Snape asked, voice low and silky. 

“Yes.” Dumbledor said solemnly. “You’ll have to watch your tone Severus, to keep from forcing Harry to do things-” 

“I am not going to be your problem.” Snape said, scowl firmly in place. “The problem is going to be keeping Potter from spreading his legs and letting every alpha he encounters take a crack at his cu-” 

“Severus!” Dumbledore’s voice rose and even Harry flinched at the sharpness in that single word. Snape froze for a moment turned his head away, lank hair falling forward to obscure his face, but not before Harry got a look at what might have been shame etched on his features. Dumbledore sighed, sternness fading back into twinkling eyed concern. “I am aware of the potential difficulties and- Harry, my boy, you’ve been very quiet. Do you have nothing to say?” 

Did he? Harry wasn’t sure, finding it hard to even imagine talking without Snape’s hissed order reasserting itself painfully on his body. Don’t Speak, don’t speak, don’t-

“Do as you please, Potter.” Snape muttered then, a touch of what might have been humor from someone else in his tone, added. “Though I find you nearly tolerable when commanded to keep your mouth shut.” 

Dumbledore rolled his eyes but Harry found he didn’t care, too relieved at having the rigid tension in his body release and the force keeping him from speaking lifted. Being free, having all of his muscles uncoil and his throat unstick, the low pounding in his brain let up, all at once was satisfying in the way scratching a bad itch was, but magnified five times over. 

Once he’d shaken off the tingling feeling that washed over him, similar to when his foot or hand fell asleep, he spared Snape a silent glare, earning a smirk in return, before looking at Dumbledore. 

“Sir, what was *that*? I couldn’t move! It...it hurt to even think about speaking, after Professor Snape told me not to.” He added the last part in a rushed whisper, chest aching at the sad frown on the headmaster’s lips Shame churned in his belly; had he messed up somehow? Was Dumbledore disappointed in him. 

“Professor Snape will not be using a compulsion like that against you for his own means again Harry.” Dumbledore said quietly, eyes flashing a steely blue briefly.” He should not have done so at all-” 

“It was merely to make a point.” Snape said dismissively. “If an alpha he hates can do that to him then imagine what one he’s even slightly interested in will do to him.” 

Harry bristled. “I’m not going to let anyone do anything to me!” 

At least he was doing to try not to let that happen. As soon as he figured out what exactly was happening, and how to stop it, and then how to put it into action. 

Snape’s snort made it very clear what he thought about that, but Dumbledore’s encouraging smile took the sting away. “Of course not. Professor Snape will spend this time teaching you how to protect yourself and not be overwhelmed when a person of complementary dynamic becomes...pushy. I have every confidence you’ll excel. Now,” The headmaster somehow gave the impression of turning his attention to Snape without actually moving at all, what with being a floating head and all. “I’ve spoken to Molly Weasley and she seems to think time with other omegas will help Harry with this transitional period so I’m arranging for Ronald-” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “And Percy-” Harry groaned. “To visit. They may have insight into more delicate matters, and Molly has some tips for you Severus.” 

“I do love getting ‘tips’ from Molly Weasley.” Snape deadpanned. 

Dumbledore continued to smile pleasantly, giving every appearance he hadn’t noticed Snape’s voice was dry enough to dehydrate a cactus. “I’m sure. Harry, do read those books, I believe they’ll help you gain an understanding of the changes you’re experiencing, and what it means for your magic and place among wizards, but don’t hesitate to ask Professor Snape if you had questions.”

“Albus, I’m hardly qualified-” 

“You had to take a course on Omega biology and unique traits before you could pass your specialized mastery in medical potions, did you not?” Dumbledore asked, expression open and curious. Snape’s face became, somehow, more sour than Harry had ever seen it before. “Poppy mentioned that all Potions Masters cleared to supply medical potions must do so.”    
“Did she?” There was an odd lilt to Snape’s voice and a hardness around his eyes. 

“Yes. While that doesn’t make you an expert, I’m certain it leaves you qualified to help with any questions Harry has that his books cannot answer.” Dumbledore said serenely. “Just as I’m certain you’ll be able to train Harry to resist the attentions of unscrupulous alphas. Not that I imagine there will be much of an issue once the courtship and engagement go public-” 

“Engagement?” Harry asked. “Who's getting engaged?”

Snape twitched. Dumbledore eyes widened slightly then he was hastily withdrawing from the fire with a cheerful “I believe Minerva is calling me. I’ll have Molly check in with you soon Severus.” 

The fire blazed an even brighter green as the last of the Headmaster’s words drifted through then, with a resolute pop, died. 

Snape’s lip curled. “Coward.” 

Harry would never say it out loud but he did, perhaps, agree just a little. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus: Ignoring problems via the wonder that is reading/books. Why discuss when you can just throw an informational text at the issue! 
> 
> Harry: Even more confused, as all the responsible adults try to weasel out of The Sex Talk. 
> 
> Me: I promise someone is going to be more clear with Harry next chapter. Also Severus makes Harry kneel and radiates asshole energy. Harry is shamefully into it.


End file.
